All The Fun of The Air

Unlike most of the pirate ships of the 1960s which the Wilson government all but scuppered by the ridiculous "Marine and Broadcasting Offences Act", this blog has not sunk. "Radio Far-Far" is back, after some encouragement from my fellow 'wireless' afficianados- though shamefacedly I note it's more than two years since my last posting. I'll try to be a more regular correspondent from now on.

It's been a miserable summer in Britain, dominated by the senseless anti-social, indeed criminal acts of mindless mobs in the August riots Not only that, but the weather has been generally miserable- or at best unsettled as well. There's not really been a lot to inspire since Wimbledon at the end of June (and even then, no Brits in the finals yet again!). Given the gloomy news it has so often had to carry, even listening to the radio has often not brought much comfort either.

But thankfully, there are glorious exceptions which bring back the sheer pleasure of spending hours on end listening to the same radio station. I used to wonder what it was that gives my slightly older friends such a passion for the pirate stations of the mid 1960s, but now maybe I'm beginning to understand its mysterious grip on the affections.

I am only just a child of the 1950s. Most of my formative years were spent in the early 1960s and I was only eight in August 1967 when Tony Benn -or the rather grander sounding Anthony Wedgwood-Benn as then was, never mind his renounced peerage as Viscount Stansgate- passed what he thought was the death sentence on the "pirate" radio ships which, from the establishment point of view, were a menace, corrupting the youth of the nation and threatening the hegemony of the mighty BBC.

But since I was still so young, I must confess I remember little of the political wrangling which led to the hastily passed legislation which took the majority of these latter day jolly Rogers (Day of that ilk, for instance) off the air. All I can recall is that my own particular favourites, Radio 390 and Radio 355,mainly heard on Mum's lounge Magnavox but occasionally under the bedclothes on my own first radio, were no longer there to provide that unique comfort and relationship that radio does so well. Faced with legislation which would dry up not just their source of funds but the very stuff of life- basically, well, fuel food and fresh water!- most stations simply gave up the ghost. The tenders returned to Harwich and various other ports carrying not just empty waste sacks, but with their deflated but certainly not defeated stars, the pirate radio 'jocks' Many of them are still with us as the elder statesmen of British radio.

Except, of course, the pirate stations never quite died. As will always happen, some brave souls defied the authorities and endeavoured to "Carry on Cruising"- the airwaves, and for a while at least the seawaves. Most famously, at the very stroke of Midnight, British Summer Time, on the 14th August 1967 when the new act came into force, Radio Caroline, which began on Easter Sunday 1964, started playing "We Shall Overcome", long the protest anthem par excellence and Johnny Walker, not to be mistaken for a bottle of whisky, began a new chapter of broadcasting outside the mould which "they" would rather we didn't listen to, perhaps. Why, who knows what civil unrest in might be fomenting in the nation's ears. We can't be doing with it.

Forty four years have passed since the passing of the MBOA now. Ironically, it was s similar sounding vessel, the Mebo 2, which brought the part of the pirate era which I remember most fondly: Radio Nordsee International was the friendly accomplisment most days of my first long secondary school holidays that August forty years ago- the sound of seventy one, you might say. Maybe as I listened to these hardy souls on an often unforgiving sea- the German Bight is well named even if differently spelled- I began to understand why, even now, children of the early fifties (or maybe even dare I add the late forties) will never forget the pirates.

Technological progress is all very well, and to be welcomed generally- but it's a dangerous best if technological history is not secure in our collective memory too. And these last seven days have seen the perfect marriage of 'wireless' technology, through the medium of radio, with 'horseless' technology, at the Great Dorset Steam Fair. This gargantuan heritage event, now held amidst the rustic charms of surely the most beautiful and varied of the Wessex counties at Tarrant Hinton, started only the year after the MBOA, in 1968,and as the last vestiges of steam power- or so it seemed- were seen working Britain's roadmakers and haymakers. Coal-incidentally, it was also the last year of steam of Britain's mainland railways.

But like pirate radio, with that indefinable but magnificent spirit so characteristic of the British, steam refused to die. The Great Dorset Steam Fair brings together men, women, boys and girls- not to mention assorted beasts, wearing horseshoes or otherwise, to a huge hectarage of recently harvested fields for five days of sheer exuberant celebration. A joyous re-creation, in fact, of the vehicles, people and customs which provided much of this island nation's food for the best part of two centuries in one form or another. And steam, that great powerhouse of the British empire, was what kept it all a-going, as well as afloat.

Although, it has to be said, England's finest workhorses are not forgotten here in this still predominantly rural county, in the many demonstrations of these gentle giants to be seen at the steam fair. There is something for everybody here, whether foodie or Fodeney, steaming up or supping up (there are real ale bars a plenty, not to mention the traditional tipple of these parts, so drink up de Zyder, George and Georgina!).

But you don't even need to make the journey some 100 miles from London (though many come from much further afield, even continental Europe) to enjoy all the colour and character of this much-imitated but rarely bettered event, which brings up the rear of summer family activities just as the schools in England and Wales prepare to return to their academic endeavours while Mums and Dads either sight with relief or sadness at the passing of another season. Somehow holding it all together with a matchless blend of the old and the new is Steam Fair FM, the inhouse radio station of the Great Dorset Steam Fair for most of the noughties and now the teenies (or whatever else we're supposed to call this awkward decade from 2011 onwards).

I didn't get along to the Steam Fair this year, though my brother did- and managed to win a goodie bag on one of the many on-air competitions being run by the station this year. Except he wasn't even at the fair when he won them; by now, he'd returned home. That, you see, is the beauty of the modern use of transistors not even dreamt of as flower power sprung into bloom and somewhat ironically, Harold Wilson's government sought to encourage us all to become inflamed with the white heat of technology. The outcome of at least a part of that technology comes in the World Wide Web, a British invention no less- thank heavens for Sir Tim Berners Lee! His brilliantly simple concept, yet so labyrinthine in its possibilities, enables anybody, in theory anywhere in the world, to sample this annual feast of past and present mixing in perfect harmony. They can, like us, now eagerly listen on the internet to each happy hit, each timeless tune and each Beatles beauty which is the lifeblood of the Steam Fair FM playlist during its eight days of Ofcom-approved "restricted service" operation.

Not to mention the vital information on weather, traffic, events and emergencies which surely all the best 'local' stations provide. Such audio stuff as even pirate gold was never made! If paradise is half as nice as this for every radio enthusiast above a certain age, then Steam Fair FM is the heaven that you take me to. Amen? (Corner)

Mind you, as a final thought for now, don't tell the Quango how far the Steam Fair FM signal can propagate on FM, for yes, I guess Ofcom is the latter day face of the Postmaster General who, in the villainous guise of Mr Benn, sought to strip the pirate-costumed voices of the airwaves forever of their marine romance with the young and not so young radio audiences of sixties Britain. The "effective radiated power" of these Restricted Service Licence stations is not allowed to exceed a certain wattage, miniscule compared to the output, for instance, of the nearby shortwave powerhouse which was once the BBC World Service transmitting station at Rampisham. Sadly, that is threatened with closure by its current owners, Babcock who, somewhat apropos of this posting, were once big in mechanical engineering. But that's perhaps a subject for another time, another place.

Meanwhile, it's quite some feat of broadcast engineering, to tranmit the feats of the mighty traction engines of the past, not to mention all the fun of the brightly-lit steam fair, as in-car entertainment some 65 miles away to Fleet Services on the M3. Sadly, Steam Fair FM's licence dictates that they finish tomorrow, some 24 hours or so after the show's public closure, but I can't wait for their return this time next year.

All the fun of the air indeed. Yes, I guess even a relative youngster like me can sing "We love the Pirate Stations", and be thankful there are enthusiasts like Event Radio Associates ( as elusive a group in some ways as the early pirates, though, as I can't find a website for them!) to keep the dream alive.

And, if you're reading this on Sunday 4th September you can actually hear homage to them in a programme presented by Chris Day at 21.00 British Summer Time tonight- at www.steamfairfm.org. Why not give it a listen?